


Check, Please | Season One

by rascalnikova



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Bathrooms, Beach Holidays, Beach House, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blackmail, California, Colorado, Denver, Dorks in Love, F/F, Fantasy, Farting, Fetish, Filming, Friendship/Love, Gym Sex, Gyms, Incest, Incest Kink, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lingerie, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Love Triangles, Messy, Pansexual Character, Panty Kink, Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh, Porn, Porn Video, Porn With Plot, Scat, Science Fiction, Scott Pilgrim References, Sex Work, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Skyrim References, Sugar Daddy, Wet & Messy, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rascalnikova/pseuds/rascalnikova
Summary: Two lesbian lovers follow the orders of their voyeuristic financial provider, who ropes them into a science-fiction fantasy world beyond their wettest, wildest dreams.





	1. Character Creation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Check, Please Chapters 1-4](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/462596) by luney-lunar-sol. 



> Imported from my (other) DeviantArt

Like all dramatic tales of love and lust, rags and riches, high stakes and low-brow humor should, this tale begins in an abandoned factory in rural Western Pennsylvania, with two lesbian fetishist lovers in search of a valuable relic. 

One fetishist is Penelope Windsor, of British heritage, standard in height with tawny, curly hair, cut just above the ears, level all around her head except for the back where it curls up a bit longer from below her neck. Penelope has a round, freckly face with chubby cheeks, a cleft chin, a button nose, thick, expressive eyebrows, and wide almond eyes magnified in her tortoiseshell John Lennon style glasses, her silver irises flecked lightly with mint green. Penelope has a thicc hourglass figure, as no better word describes her, with love handles in the middle, a slight belly, wide hips and an equally wide bosom and round breasts, and an ass of fatty half circles, soft and pillowy, with hefty thighs to hold them up that taper down to toned calves and small feet. Penelope wears tight denim jeans—so tight, in fact, and with her ass so fat, that her butt cheeks actually fold out of the top to create a comfortable plumber's crack, with the top button undone—an exactly matching denim jacket, and slip-on shoes with rolled up striped socks at the ankle where the jeans meet, the perfect attire for pacemaker factory delving—plus her blue and white polka dot bow peeking up in her hair. 

The other fetishist, her partner in crime and in love, Aurora Walkyr, is tall, part Russian, part Scandinavian with wavy, full, golden blonde hair, with side-swept bangs in the front and feathered pigtails in the back to look like two wings parting to about her shoulder’s length, with streaks of marigold and scarlet colors, like an autumnal phoenix. Aurora has an elven face with prominent cheekbones, a celestial nose, small round eyebrows, and prominent, upturned eyes with one black iris, and the other sky blue. Aurora has thin legs that seem to go on for miles, with a little extra meat at the upper thigh, past her thigh gap, to support her huge pear-shaped bottom, where it seems all of her fat in her diet congregates. Since her hips and waist are so thin, the size of her ass can even be seen from the front, past the sides of the hips and drooping a bit heavily past the thigh gap. Beyond that, she is surprisingly thin, with a toned belly, perky breasts, and an almost bony torso. Aurora wears dusty black combat boots up to her ankle with black thigh-high stockings and scarlet lace. There is a sexy sliver of bare, pale skin between the top of her stockings and the bottom of her tight, jet black pencil skirt which reins in her gargantuan cheeks a bit, and underneath, she goes commando. Above, she wears a long dusty trench coat which is torn just above her tailbone, buttoned over her black lace bra and otherwise bare torso, with her toned midriff showing. 

“Have you been saving up your power, Penny?” Aurora asks, relieved to have found a safe area for them to break for a few moments and actually be able to talk. They're both sat cross-legged in front of each other at the top of a tall metal staircase leading to the roof closed with a hatch, with the perpendicular hallway below them in full view. 

“Of course I have, silly!” Penny cheers in response, absolutely thrilled to be somewhere secluded with her lover. “There might be evil orcs down there or something,” she continued, which Aurora found ridiculous, though exciting, but just a few days from now, she will find this same sentence commonplace, perhaps even mundane.

“Then perhaps,” Aurora whispers slyly, gazing at her with a side eye, winking with one visible eye, “we can spare a moment to ourselves? Nara will never know.”

Penelope nods and bites her bottom lip. Forcefully, but with complete consent of course, Aurora stands up and grabs Penny’s hair, pushes her forward into her ass, throbbing with held-in flatulence, impossibly firm in her pencil skirt. Penny reaches in to squeeze it from underneath, and it is surprisingly jiggly with a lot of give, and on the way she wipes cum gathered in a fold at the top of her lover's thigh, and lays a gentle, intimate hand on the underside of Aurora’s butt cheek. There, Penny waits until Aurora bares down. Thankfully, Aurora is quite impatient. 

BRVVVVVVRTT-rreepp!!

Aurora’s fart was usual, but that does not take away from how extraordinary it was to Penelope, and how it would be to any normal person, really. Aurora’s farts are usually long and rumbly, though the shorter they are, the louder and more forceful. Often near the end of nearly minute-long pushes, which are not all that rare, the fart always starts to get a little dirtier. In this case, this fart was quite short, so as to conserve her fuel, and therefore quite powerful, with a wet squeak at the end. In fact, it was a good thing Aurora had a grip on Penelope’s head, or else she would have both been pushed back by the forcefulness of the fart that emptied out in dark orange smoke from underneath the pencil skirt. Penelope held on as the fart vibrated, and squeezed her sensually with both hands after it squeaked.

Penelope moaned between deep inhales while Aurora waggled her ass, hopelessly dampening at the thighs again with beads of sweat and cum. Penelope smelled Aurora’s deep musk of beef with a richness like wine. “Hmmm… gorgeous. Is it my turn now?” 

Without speaking, Aurora released her, and knelt down in front of her, worshipping the curves from the low vantage point that made her lover seem towering, though Penny was actually much shorter than her. 

Ecstatic in the moment, Penelope did not let it last long. She whipped around, shoved her denim-clad ass into her lover’s face, unzipped the jeans and waggled a bit to undo a wedgie and ironically, to give her ass some air, and then let rip, immediately replacing that air with something far more foul. 

pprbblloorrbpPOP-GRRARRPPBLLOOORT-tic— 

“Oooh, oh, oh, gosh, Aura,” she cried, turning back around and kneeling to Aurora’s level who did not stir at all in surprise, in fact smirked wider in some secret, sinful wisdom, as Penelope bore her teeth and pushed her bum cheeks together from outside her jeans. Aurora put her ear to it, and heard the slight squelch, so she knew exactly what Penelope would ask next: “C-can you check me?” with that usual, stuttering cadence and familiar, bashful yet aroused tone, as well as an embarrassed yet proud blush as she turned to look at her with fluttering eyelashes, and Aurora lived for it, with another foggy white drip of cum making it past the fold of her immense ass. 

“Sure, let me see,” Aurora chuckled, but with a certain level of recited sympathy. “Hmm…” she concentrated as she slid her fingers sensually down Penny’s arched lower back, tickled the tailbone a bit to get one of Penny’s adorable cackles, then slid her fingers down Penny’s purposeful plumber crack as Penny cutely poked her tush out and giggled—Aurora told her, “Oop, yeah, just a little splatter—" 

“Shit! I-I mean… crap!”

“Both are correct.” 

“Shush, you!”

“Pen, one woman’s shit is another woman’s treasure,” Aurora whispered, quelling her with her wisdom and uncharacteristic gentleness. Tears in her eyes, Penelope nodded, threw herself around her neck, draped her arms down her back from a hug at the shoulders, and peppered her with kisses, to make Aurora blush and laugh. Grabbing her sensually by the love handles, Aurora continued, devilishly: “What I mean is, you shit yourself, and I love you for it." 

“Hush!”

“Hey, I’m the one that does laundry for you!” Aurora raises her voice indignantly, with an air of irony. “Or... decides not to do laundry for you! What would you do without me?”

“Have swamp ass, like, all the time, Aurora…” 

Aurora cocked her head. “N-no, I meant, what would you do without me, not with me—”

“Shut up or there’s swamp ass more for you!”

“Go for it, then!”

“I just might!” Penny squeaks, scared that this is an actual argument. 

Aurora raises her voice, but laughs before, to show that she's playful. “Then I’ll have to wipe for you and bathe you, huh!?”

. . . 

"Mm-hmm,” Penelope humms after a pause, shivering with arousal, her eyes widening in excitement as she sat back down. Aurora noticed that, as she sat down a bit harder than Penelope bargained for, her eyes crossed and her tongue poked out as the small turd poked against her crack like a penis. 

Now, for real, what are Aurora and Penelope, lesbian fetishists, doing in an abandoned factory in rural Westylvania looking for a valuable relic? Check this. 

 

One Week Earlier...

 

“Check m—”

“Check you, Penny, is that what you said?”

Static. 

“Penny, how am I expected to check you for a stain if I'm in Seattle and you're in Maine? Oh, that rhymed." 

“N-no, idiot! I told you, I’m breaking up!”

“We’re breaking up? What, because of a joke?”

“I swear to—unnngh!”

“Oh, lover, does your tummy hurt?”

. . .

“Hello? Penny, are you there?”

“Listen to me, Aurora Walkyr," she mutters, sternly but with a smart smile. 

“. . . All right, lover,” Aurora responds, hushed from hearing her full name.

“What I meant was that the reception sucks, and that it cut off when I told you to check the letter I sent you yesterday, for a surprise. I forgot to tell you. You missed something.”

“Ohh… well why didn’t you just say—” 

“Oh, in two days, I am going to make sure you can never smell again, you fuck.”

. . . 

"I-I mean, you poopy head." 

"Both are correct."

 

Aurora took off her headset and ran a surprising length across her penthouse apartment to grab the box she left on the living room table. 

Aurora, until two days from now, lives in an expensive downtown Seattle penthouse apartment with eight bedrooms for her seven sisters, all part of an octuplet, and the apartment part of one whole floor. Note that three of four bathrooms are currently closed off—and not only because of Aurora. 

The mother of the octuplets did not survive that stressful birth, but the entire octuplet survived, so jump cut enough years through foster care, and her eldest by a few hours takes care of them all, and all of them had named themselves by legally changing their names. Aurora used to have the name Hannah, but not by her mother's choice, even. Literally, their names were given to them from a list of the most popular names of the year. Since all of them turned 18 within the month—or technically on December 16, two weeks ago but a different month altogether, a different year altogether—everyone is going their separate ways, as the mother, in her will, stated clearly that she wants her children to leave the Seattle apartment, and Washington state in general, to pursue their own goals and find their own success, not to be comfortable with her monetary heirloom. Due to the ambiguous nature of Will and Testament Law, the government will only give Aurora her portion of the money after proving her success in a different state—which, to Aurora, is completely arbitrary, but to the government a requirement from her mother beyond the grave. Lucky her, she has a pamphlet of a list of qualifying jobs, and fetish model, professional musician, nor published authors are valid to the 9-5 bureaucracy—funny enough, neither is politician, so. 

In any case, now Aurora feels the pressure to leave, and so needs a place elsewhere to stay. Since she craves so much to be with Penelope, with her few thousand dollars that she received from the will—for now—she barely had enough to buy a plane ticket for herself to meet Penelope, to rent an Air BnB for a few days, and to ration off a few days worth of planned meals. The two of them settled on Western Pennsylvania, on Pittsburgh International Airport, since the tickets were the cheapest there of all the Northern Midwestern cities, and none to Minneapolis, the true midpoint, were available. Aurora is desperate, but moreso, desperately in love, and cannot wait for January 3rd. 

Aurora reaches Penelope's package, in its puffy yellow foam envelope on the marble coffee table, holds it protectively, and steals off back to her bedroom, avoiding her seven sisters which are somehow nowhere to be seen, probably in their rooms or piled up in the bathroom. 

Aurora remembers that, one day, after all eight of them had food poisoning after a dinner out together, with only four bathrooms and such a rush, two people each had to shit in the same toilet at the same time. While Aurora did admittedly find it silly and fun, to have to stand on top of her favorite sister's thighs and aim her turd in between her widened legs, that does explain why three bathrooms are now clogged. The two sisters on the surviving toilet were actually shamed by the other six for having such a smell mess. That's what happens when an entire octuplet has Irritable Bowel Syndrome plus Lactose Intolerance, and no mother to shoo them away from immature humor or, in Aurora's case, the Internet's fetish subculture.

Aurora's bedroom, which she enters with the envelope, is home to a short and stout wooden bookshelf, with all of its books unpacked, some Tetris'd in a box, wherein lies Dostoyevsky’s masterworks, a tome of a journal eventually turned diary, another tome of a second attempt at a journal eventually turned fetish smut, a tome of a composition book that is actually smaller composition books stapled together which contains some of her custom or remixed violin compositions—when she discovered experimental jazz, she had a phase of incorporating the sound of her own well-timed farts into her music for some bawdy fiddle diddies—a book of maps, a modern classics literature anthology, and much, much more. Then there is her viola stand, her music stand, and her Google Home on her coffee table, quietly playing Tchaikovsky, and beside it, her stack of video game consoles. Then there is, of course, her vanity, her ornate wardrobe, and her desk, and her bed, never once christened, sadly, by a fart or make-out session with Penny, but certainly by farts, wrestling matches, and pillow fights from her seven sisters. Nonetheless, she knew she was feeling hopelessly, needlessly sentimental, the feeling before a big change in one’s life that was always something sought after, but never truly expected, a mixture of homesickness, nausea, and some shivery, insomniac form of excitement. 

Aurora sits down and slips back on her headset. “Oh, you somehow managed to turn on your webcam.”

“. . . and you are going to shut up and open the part of the gift you missed, Einstein.” 

Aurora delves deeper into the package to find a crease at the bottom which, when she unfolds it, reveals—

“Oh… Poppy, thank you for the rose but... it's wilted.”

Penelope bites her lip, averts her eyes bashfully, smiles with pursed lips. 

“What? Am I missing something?”

“Smell it, lover...” 

“No way, Penny. Did you—” 

While shaking from excitement, kicking her feet below her desk: “Mm-hmm!!”

“How did you wilt a rose with your farts?”

“Oh, come on… You’ve only witnessed my farts through Mason jars so far. You’ll know how… soon, oh, so, so soon, Aurora.”

“So soon… two days—oh, I will never pass up an opportunity to prove you wrong.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You did send me this…” Aurora takes out a pair of stripy panties from her pocket, admittedly in tatters, but as Aurora is quick to note: "It arrived like this!" 

“Oh, yeah! I sent you a nice skidmark… Besides, that pair of panties was fading anyways. Be sure to pack that. Anyway, you had that on you!”

“Yeah, I was, uh…” Aurora blushes, but revives her confidence with a wink and a toothy smile. 

“Hah! I made you blush! Not so calm and collected now, are you, pervert?” she says, quieter and quieter as Aurora proves that she is, indeed, mostly unfazed. 

“Shush, you.... Oh, do I hear the Beatles playing?”

 

Now the setting is the coast of Maine, in a house that functions in the daytime as a hub for rental boats, bait, tackle, and licenses for tourists, and at night as a family home. Penelope is an only child living, for the next two days, with her birth parents. 

On the inside of Penelope’s room door hangs a Beatles' Abbey Road poster. From outside of the wooden door, Penelope, and by proxy Aurora, hears the faint chime of a cash register opening, and light chatter from outside of her window of lobster trappers discussing their latest hauls. From the inside of the door, a Beatles vinyl is playing on a gramophone. From her brick wall hangs an anchor clock, a talking fish statuette, a painting of the London Skyline, and a little shrine to Aurora on the facing wall, with vintage floral wallpaper. Then she has a bed, christened plenty by her own farts, but never cleaned off of her books and stuffed animals or in many cases, washed off, out of laziness. In fact, the whole room has a certain haphazardness to it, as the bookshelf is full of knicknacks from her New England travels, as well as little figurines from her favorite shows, movies, and other forms of media, and her coffee table is stacked with textbooks and novels and poetry books, and then there's the smell, which maintains a level of privacy from her traditional, albeit tolerant, family, since they never want to walk into her room without knocking and expecting her to meet them at the door to open it for them. That way, she can masturbate, talk raunchily, write smutty fan-fic, and experiment with farts, and when she's especially horny, things like diapers and balloons without anyone barging in on her, or overhearing her since the brick walls of the shop are so purposefully thick. Penelope loves this home. However, floods are on the way, and her parents have her blessing to emigrate to another state before the flood hits, for a gap year from her Literature studies at the University of Maine. 

Her parents, working class but well off, could spare a one-way flight ticket to Pittsburgh, an even location between her and her lover, which her parents support wholeheartedly, not knowing the initial source of their love, of course. In any case, Penelope is quite grateful for this expense from her parents, even in the face of possible natural disaster, and is willing to cope with the culture shock of the Midwest, as long as she withstands it with Aurora. With that said, aside from a few hundred dollars to pay for the first few days on house rental, that is all the expense her parents can spare, in the face of natural disaster. 

 

Penelope turns back to her monitor. “Oh, yeah, I have Twist and Shout turning!”

From the stereo: . . . Baby now!! C’mon baby . . .

“One day… I swear, we will go to Liverpool.. see all the sights.”

Penelope gasps. “Really? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right—” Grrrmmblt… “Oh, you know my tummy gets all upset when I get excited!...mmph, here!”

Prt-ttrbbBRRAARRPPTGSSHCK— 

“Oop! I-I b-better stop…” 

From the next track: She loves you, yea, yeah, yeah, yeahh, YEAHH! . . . .

 

Two Days Later!!

 

Because of their different flights, Penelope had a bit of extra time to spend in the airport as she waited for Aurora to arrive, but once she landed, she grew restless from all the excitement, and practically bounced from the bookstore to the Pittsburghese merchandise store to the woodworking store, and all around her terminal in less than five minutes. Penny kept checking her phone and spent most of her time supine on the carpeted floor, staring at the text Aurora had sent before she boarded. 

| I love you! I get to see you, and better yet, YOU get to see ME |  
| in less than two hours! I love you so much! Hey, if I fill up on |  
| airplane food, will you fill up on airport food too as you wait for |  
| me to arrive? Then we can have some fun. So excited! Ok we |  
| r boardng bi |

… and then four heart-eyes emojis. 

“I think that’s the first time she's ever used emojis... I hope unironically,” she mumbled to herself, and then whisper yelled, tearing up and writhing on the ground, her limbs splaying and wiggling like a squid, “I can’t wait!!” 

Still, Penelope somehow waited. Immediately after that moment, with one hour left, she bolted from the lounge towards the public area where arrivals empty out into, and found a Wendy’s. “If I order apple fries, I can show her what this bad girl is capable of,” she mumbled to herself, patting her own bum cheek at what was, luckily, the back of the line, “and then I can eat whatever else I want.” 

By that, she means, she ordered one 10 piece chicken nuggets meal, with an extra 6 piece tenders, two packets of honey mustard, and a drink of ginger ale, to quell her easily upset tummy, but also make it froth with bubbles for her lover, who, cutting to the end of the meal, after positively filling herself up for lover, levelling her entire meal and drink in her largest meal ever, is— 

—about to arrive!!” Penny cried out, jumping from her chair which pushed to a loud, grinding halt, and the whole scene attracted some tired, judgemental eyes from across the fast-food restaurant. Penelope halted herself, blushed, smiled apologetically, grabbed her purse, and ran to meet up with her lover, in person, in the actual physical world, for the first time, ever.

When Aurora arrives, however, neither of them initially recognize each other. Both are too frantic to think to call each other, and both are too focused on the possible beauty of the moment to call once they do remember. Both are at their individual baggage claims, right across from each other in fact, and once they get their luggage, both rush outside to make a call to the other, and both run into each other—physically. 

Both sets of eyes light up. Both smile. Both blush in embarrassment, and sigh at how obvious it was, and yet, both flush from the slight differences they notice in real life, from all angles rather than one on video call or a few raunchy selfies. 

Both hug deeply, slowly inching out of the way of the exit for others to pass. 

“Oh… hi,” Penelope whispered into her ear, nestling in her shoulder. “Oh… you are the perfect height for me to nuzzle you…” 

“Ahh… this is nice.”

The meet was a quiet, emotional moment. To represent any more is a betrayal of their intimacy and privacy—for now. Besides, you're not missing out on any of the kinky shit. 

In any case, both entered their rental car, as their eyes had adjusted, apart from the tears, to seeing each other in real life. 

To lighten the mood, Aurora let loose, without warning, into the driver's seat—

Trrt...trrvvvvrrrvrrt-VVVRRRT-VVRTT-RRRMMM ... MMmmnnnrrrck-MMMPPHH-FFRRRrrtt—Gloorpph!

“Aaahh…” 

“Oh… my… is this real life?” Penny swooned. "It sounded like you revved the engine..." 

Aurora’s rip began as a slight, rumbly toot, that became a light rumbler, that gradually turned into a heavier rumbler—in the middle of which, she squeezed her cheeks together a few times to garble the fart, which caused both of them to cackle—then the fart gained more and more momentum, and as she dug her bum into the leather seat of the car in pure ecstacy, it became more of a creak and from there more of a muffled roar until it died down into a pause and then one short wet bubble as the finale, clocking in at about a minute, lucky for the seat. 

“This is real life, yes,” Aurora replied practically, smiling, scratching her butt from underneath her one size too small, baggy cargo shorts, and then sniffing her finger sensually.

“Right now it doesn’t seem like it…” Penelope breathed, her voice breaking, her eyes watering and averting to her own lap.

“Hey… hey.” Aurora placed a stern but loving hand on Penny’s back, and with the other hand, placed her fingers in front of her lover's nose to comfort her with the smell. “It may not feel like it now, but we will get used to this.”

“Hmm… I… I could get used to this!” she cried cheerfully, making an effort to cheer up. 

“Let one loose, and cheer up a bit!” 

“Mmm… okay,” she moaned, biting her lip and wiping her tears. Excitedly, laying a gentle hand on Aurora’s thigh, she bounced on her bubble butt a bit, and looked up and squinted as if searching for the fart, and when she found it, her eyes crossed outwards, widened, and she bore down with her elbows and fists hitting the seat behind her, until her bum—

Prrpp-ppccksh-shhcchk-cchhssshhjug - 

“Mmmphh!” 

Not being able to handle herself any longer, Penny unbuckled her seatbelt and plopped her sloppy bum onto Aurora’s lap, and danced on it, pushing the stench from there to eventually, in this excited, muddy lap dance, up to Aurora's neck, where she stayed and let out one more—

Pprrrtt!

“Aaah… Hey, on the way to the rental place, can we stop someplace and get ice cream?” she asked sweetly, sitting back down in her own seat and buckling her seatbelt, tongue peeking out of her mouth cutely. 

“I will if it makes you gassy. And only if we get napkins while we're there. This is a rental.”

“Of course it makes me gassy, silly… and of course I need a napkin,” she said, rubbing her ass against the seat triumphantly with slight squelches. 

“Good. We need to christen our first bed, even if we only sleep in it for a few days.”

“I'll make up for our year apart...” Penny whispered, throwing her arms around Aurora's neck, draping over her lover’s shoulders. 

“You better,” Aurora replied devilishly, winking with a cocky smile. Both sniffed. “Aaah… everything smells so much better in person.” 

“This is just the beginning, huh?” Penny asked cutely, and at that, Aurora put an arm behind her, Penny absolutely beamed, and Aurora backed up and out of the parking space. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Google,” Penelope sang as Aurora parked at their rental house, vanilla ice cream and sprinkles gathering in the folds of her smily lips, on an absolute sugar high. 

“How do you know she's married?”

“I just want her to be happy!”

The Air BnB was a cottage townhouse with wooden styling and a clean white stucco build. Inside was a fake cow skin rug, and the only taxidermy was a sculpted sailfish catch replica hanging from the wall. In the wide open floor plan with the diagonal hallway cutting through it, they could both see the marble and stainless steel kitchen, the black leather loveseat with glass table and wall-mounted flat-screen TV, and best of all, the one bathroom, easily seen into. 

“This is how we rented so cheap,” Aurora explained, pointing out the bathroom with no door. 

“I would have paid more for that!”

“Me too.”

Aurora placed her two leather duffle bags onto the entrance tiles, and Penelope, mimicking her, plopped her two roller suitcases loudly onto the floor. Then, they gazed at each other.

Before they knew it, they ended up on the couch, but not quite in a romantic capacity yet. Instead, the two just stared at each other, and sometimes wandered around each other to view the other at different angles, like a sensor completing a 3D image. 

While this entire day had been an intense one, and one of many stark, seemingly irreversible changes, they made sure not to depersonalize themselves by using the other, their lover, as a tether. 

They ended up not saying another word past “I would have paid more for that,” and “me too,” and slept silently in each other’s arms on the bed, christened not by gas, but by passion and muted desperation. Granted, as they slept, he blanket billowed with two rancid dutch ovens, however the sounds never woke them.

The Next Day

“Wake up, sleepy head!” 

GRRRKK-rrrbbblllrrpp!!

“Aaah…” 

Both greedily sniffed up the smell of apple fries from yesterday, as in rotted, and thus intoxicated. The fart sounded like a muffled roar, and then a playful raspberry. “Good morning,” Aurora sighed groggily.

“Good morning, Aura. This is the first day of the rest of our lives!”

“Every day is, though…” 

“Oh, you stop being so philosophical or there is more in it for you… n-no, wait, then there’s less in it for you! Hmph!”

“Now that is an incentive, Poppy. You've learned. How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, and so did you, before you ask. I woke up entangled with you, and you were snoring like a pug-pug, and cuddly like one, too!” 

Penelope quickly skipped, and Aurora slowly galloped, more like stumbled, over to the kitchen, and one of the few foods they bought on the way back from the airport was cereal. Aurora poured a box of Raisin Bran. Penny poured a box of Cookie Crisps, apparently now with marshmallows. Aurora thought to herself, as if she needs more sugar and energy.

Collapsed in front of the television, it was suddenly noon, a grey and snowy midday in Northern January. Both were used to depressive weather, so they didn't mind it much. Plus, their farts would be noticeably and enjoyable warmer in the cold. 

“Hey, I have a question, Penny.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“How are we going to get money?”

. . . 

This is a question that had to be asked. Both of their previous home and current financial situations surely warranted the question. To be together in a new place was a decision they both needed, despite how abstract the emotions felt and how feverish and dreamlike the world seemed, but now, they needed to get down to brass tacks. 

“An hourly job wouldn’t work, would it, 'rora?”

“No… That would take too long, and we can only rent this place for a week until the owner gets back from her vacation.” 

Both were true—their financial situations warranted immediate lump sums, not money over time. Besides, Aurora was fresh out of high school and Penelope was on a gap year from college, and both now resided in a new state without financial dependents, references, or experience. The job search would be grueling and long on its own, especially at this time of year. 

“Oh!” Penelope had an idea. “I saw on Twitter a woman that makes $2,000 a month selling pictures of her feet and berating men into giving her money.”

“I heard about that, too. Now there are too many of them. People took the opportunity, and now Twitter is polluted with— 

Vrrrmmmtshck!!

“Aaah… pollution,” Aurora moaned, having thrust out her humongous, unleashed bum in her loose Pikachu pajama pants. “Anyways…” 

“Oh, that is a great idea!”

“What is—?”

“We can publish fart fetish videos!” 

 

As Penelope drove to pick up extra food for lunch, Aurora rushed to Best Buy to buy a tripod for her tablet, and the camera was set up by the time Penelope came back with Chick-fil-A, situated outside of the bathroom, pointing in past the empty doorway, focused on the closed toilet seat. 

“What did you get, hon?”

“I got myself a market salad, extra fruit, and I got you a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit because I knew you needed something meatier than chicken—" 

“Oh, I love you so much—” 

“—because they were for some reason still cooking breakfast after noon. But I also got us a big thing of fries and a large cola each!” 

“That should be enough, but I bet we're running low on money now. All right. Do you want to devour this before we film? I hate when porn stars eat on camera.”

“Me too. I don’t know why. Let’s eat and watch game show reruns.” 

“You were made for me, Penelope.”

clik Good answer! Good answer! … Survey says … ! 

BRRRAAPPT!!

Awww…

“Aaaah…” 

“Hey!” spank! “Save those for the video!” 

“Hmmph! I’ve been naa-aughty…” 

 

Penny sat on the frilly, pale pink toilet seat cover, her legs bent out so the camera sees the curve of her bum underneath her fanny as well as the outline of her vagina, while Aura stands stretched against one of the walls, arching her back and puffing her marvelous ass out right next to her lover’s face. 

Penny wears frilly seafoam green panties and an off-white blouse, unbuttoned at the bottom and the top, to show a bit of her slight belly and more of her cleavage. Now, her pale, freckled knees curve in towards each other, and her feet are splayed out cutely as she makes silly faces into the camera. Her face is done up with makeup, with emerald green wings from her eyes and beige lipgloss. 

Aura sets the tone. “Mmmhh… I am so gassy…” The two elected to not blur their faces, but also not mention their own names. Aura wears black boyshorts and a black corset, as well as high heel stilletos. Penny did her face up with heavy black Egyptian style eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, as well as accentuated her beauty mark above her lip. 

“Hmm~?” Penny hummed excitedly, her eyes widening and her cheeks flushing on cue, but also as a legitimate reaction. She traced Aura’s cheeks with her hot-pink fingernails. “Prove it…” she said huskily.

“Mmmnn…” Aura pushed towards Penny, the former’s ass in the latter’s face, and bent forward, hugging her own legs to accentuate the shape and absolute size of her own buttocks, then pushed calculatedly. 

Bbllpp-bllppbbbrrr-bbBBLLllrr-BBbbpprrtttt-BBbbBpPPBBLORRTT

The fart, a bubbler, less of a rumbler than usual, lasted for half a minute, and felt textured and wet against Penny’s face. As Penny faced towards the camera, with the side of her face submerged in Aura’s ass, Penny made highly expressive, adorable faces in the camera as the fart loosed, beginning as prim and aroused, and then wide-eyed and agape as Aura’s fart progressed, with bared teeth and squinting eyes at the end, flaring her nostrils in mock disgust at the wet finale of it.

As Penny began to play with herself underneath her panties, a clear spot gathered and grew at Penny’s groin. During this, Aura pulled off her boyshorts sexily, flexibly, and slowly to reveal a black thong underneath, where, simultaneously, a black spot gathered and grew at her crack. For a few seconds, she shook her ass in the camera, then in Penny’s giggling face, then hopped a bit until she— "ooomph!" —arched her back into Penny’s face, stretched up the wall a bit, and let loose again, lifting up one leg, with a toned and shapely pointed towards the camera. 

BrrRRRrrcckk-CKKRSSHsshhugrrgprrtplop-pllbbrr-PLLP-chhk!

“Aaah! Hmmm…” 

“Did you just -” 

“Yes, Pe—I mean… ehh... yes, love, I did,” Aura stuttered, profoundly flustered, “but just a bit. Pooped, I meant to say." 

At that, Penny reached in between Aura’s thong, poked it lightly a bit, watches as a small bundle of brown pebbles in her panties pendulumed back and forth, momentarily enlarged by her fingers in the pile, and sniffed her glossy fingers, nearly fainting for the camera. “Hhhaaah… nnnncghh… d-do you n-need to… umm…” Both became so flustered at the blissful intimacy and extreme sex appeal of this moment, legitimately, the first explicitly sexual moment ever for them, and only a day into their physical relationship. “Do you need to splatter the boo-oowl?” Penelope finally whispered, gulping and sniffing as the focus of the camera shifted to water droplets on the lens, averting back quickly after. 

Aura lifted Penny off of the seat by the thighs until Aura stood up herself, guided to stand aside as the former lifted up the toilet seat. When Aura sat on it, at first Penny kneeled down and played with the visible curves and folds that flooded out from the sides of the toilet seat as her colossal ass attempted to fit, and then Aura guided her lover to sit on her lap, which she did, brushing up her bum against her chest playfully, the apex of her bum burying Aura’s chin until she sat heavily on her lap, kerplunked Aurora's ass in, and then put her hands properly on her knees.

Then Aura unleashed. 

BBBRRRVVVVRRRTTT-SHHHCK-CKSSSHH-CKKRRRTT-jrgljrglbblloorrppt

Dripple-drip...drip...

“Aaahmmmpph!” Aura moaned in pure ecstacy, her face relaxed completely and white as a sheet. 

Sniff sniff… “Mmm… smells meaty. Did you go poo, sweety?”

“Y-yes… I… Oh, fuck!” 

“Huh?”

“I-I left my thong on!!” 

“Ooommnn… poor thing…” Penny teased, pretending it all went according to plan, and got up to make room for her.

Aura sat up a bit, worked her hand underneath the seat to access her bum, moved the string of the thong away from her crack, wiggled a bit and then, visibly frustrated, let loose a shart on last time for the video. 

Grrrnnk! 

Plop-THUNK-dripp!

The shart was actually so forceful that it forced the messes out of her crack and into the toilet, like a hose. That would be her excuse, anyway, for not wiping. 

“Aaah… there. I managed to dislodge it, but this toilet is going to be clogged.” 

“Hmm… poor toilet. Should I unleash in your lap, then, to make sure the toilet doesn’t overflow?” 

That, of course, was a rhetorical question from Penny. 

TTttck-ccrrkksh-sshhhh-tchchk...

“Mmm… airy, huh?” Penny asked, sitting up and forcing her bum into Aura’s gracious, muffled, sniffing face. 

In that position, Penny aerated again. 

Kkrrk-chk-sssshhhhhh...ssss…

“Mphoo rrlyk mmskumk…” Aura uttered into Penny’s ass, attempting to communicate that her lover is “like a skunk.” In fact, beyond having noxious gas when her farts were airy and puffy, Penny’s bum emitted some sort of pheromone that Aura absolutely craved, not unlike some sort of mystical flora or fauna.

Wanting to keep the video just short enough for the perfect ratio of video to ad revenue, hearing the camera beep ten minutes, Penny took that as inspiration. Lolling her tongue out, her eyes lazed and her entire face drooped as she let out her finale for the video, which to her credit, certainly started off airy— 

Sshhhck—POP! ... PRPT-BLORT-PFPPT-BSHHCGGHHJJCK-CCRKK—PHHOOMPPHH! 

drip... drip... drip... drip…

“Ohh! Ohh, no… I-I am so sorry, I just… mmpphh…! I-I have to go upstairs and… empty my, erm…!!”

The fact of the matter, however, was the Penny was not sorry in the slightest. In fact, each rapid perk of her buttocks side to side proved that she had so much fun as the short farts punctuated, first a quick purr, then a wet one, then a puff, and then the messy, squeaky mudslide as she thrusted it by the hips in a circle.

At that, Poppy hopped off of Aura, the latter’s face miraculously clean despite the upwards mudslide up her belly and breasts, and as Penny turned around before running off, a visible bundle of spherical globs dripped past her panties, nestled in her crack, and onto the floor with heavy claps on the tile. 

Also visible was Penny’s proud expression as she fiddled with it from the front, and the room’s visible orange haze before Penny clicked off the camera and ran off, screaming “we are gonna be soo-oo fuckin' rich!!”

And a few seconds later from deeper into the house, "I mean, stinkin' rich!" 

Ten minutes latter, with both the downstairs and upstairs toilets still clogged, Aura and Penny exited the shower together, after Aura cleaned both herself and lazy Penelope, giving the latter a deeper clean, and sniffing deeply periodically to make sure. 

Then they went downstairs, edited the video to 10:01, and then published it, their names together as partial anagrams of their full names: Laura & Opal.

“Very nice job, Opal.” 

“You too, Laura! I came to you in the shower, by the way." 

"Me too, dumbass." 

"It is most certainly not dumb!" But when she strained, nothing came out, and she massaged her butt cheeks pitifully as Aurora laughed and hugged her from behind. 

Both of them waited until dinner to check the video. 

 

From Penelope's laptop, five people had bought their video for five bucks each, and one of them donated twenty five bucks for a personalized fart video. “That’s $50!” Penelope cried. 

“That isn’t bad, but… look.”

Aurora turned her own laptop around to show Penelope 6 separate tabs, only within the last few hours, of pirated versions of the clip. “Oh, that fucker… I mean…” 

“No, you mean fucker,” Aurora confirmed. “We might get some money, but not nearly enough, quickly enough to sustain renting this place out extra, let alone other places once the owner returns from vacation, let alone a house to ourselves that we can clog without feeling guilty.”

“You feel guilty?” Penelope asked, tilting her head.

“No, of course not, but still…” 

“Let’s try to figure out something else, then.”

 

The brainstorm lasted quite a while longer. 

Two hours later, in fact, after delving through multitudes of multi-level marketing schemes, get-rich-quick scams, and impossibly grueling unskilled commission jobs, Penelope realized: “Oh! What about finding a sugar daddy or mommy?”

“Uch… as much as I hate the term, that is a good idea.”

"You know I will never love someone more than you, right?”

“Oh, of course not, and me neither… you, I mean. I would never love someone more than you. This is just pragmatic.”

Both researched on their own laptops, sat snugly together on the couch. 

Naturally, most sugar daddies and mommies congregate, due to the subcultures, in New York City and Los Angeles. In a strange way, their niche location away from these places, in the Northern Midwest to be exact, gave Penelope and Aurora an advantage, as both then searched for the others. You know how, after a tall glass of lemonade, or even chocolate milk, there is that forgotten glob of sugar or syrup at the bottom of the glass that cannot be reached by your tongue, nor be sucked up by the straw? There, in that little pouch of sugary syrup known as Westsylvania, they found Nadia Narcissa, known simply as Nara. See, there in that little glob at the bottom of the glass of chocolate milk that is the United States of America, within it is a magic untapped. Within that little glob of sugar and syrup resides the perfect balance. The overflow that resides within that perfect balance are people that are unwilling to commute due to a multitude of factors including sentimentality, business, family, or social commitment, et cetera, and also attract only clients from the more populated areas of the country that are also unwilling to commute based on these same factors to, in Nadia Narcissa’s case, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. 

With that said, Nadia Narcissa’s clientele is even less, based on her very specific romantic and sexual preferences. Nadia Narcissa is lesbian. Nadia Narcissa is also polyamorous, looking for two women, two lesbian coupled women to be exact, because of her voyeurist and cuckhold fetishes, and also dabbles in a variety of other more direct fetishes that need fulfillment. 

Both stared at the laptop screen, reading the Craigslist advertisement. “That sounds perfect for us, right, Penny?”

“Oooh, yes, call her, now!”

Aurora did so. 

“Hello? Yes, hi, we are calling on behalf of your Craigslist ad… no, for the polyamorous—yes, that one. Oh, we are excited too! Oh, right. Well, we will email you a copy of a video we shot just today!” Aurora mouthed to Penny, email her the video. She did so quickly under pressure, though quite stressed at such a simple task. “Okay, check to see—oh, great! OK, how about you watch it, I will… leave you to privacy… and you call us back if you are interested. Okay, thank you. Bye."

. . . 

“Penny, I am hopeful.”

“That sounded friendly!”

Five minutes later - RINGRING - immediately, Aurora answered the phone, only to hear moaning, which Penelope also heard from a few feet away, not even on speaker phone. 

“So…” Aurora talked into the phone awkwardly, “I, uh... presume you are interested? . . . Oh, we will meet you there,” Aurora continued, losing her breath from absolute excitement. “Yes, yes, okay, me and my partner, yes, okay, yes, will meet you then! Thank you! Bye!"

. . . 

"Well!?" Penelope cried. 

"Well, she sent us a tip that'll last us a few days! Then we're supposed to meet her at some factory—don't worry, I wrote it down—in a week." 

One week later... “What would you do without me?” Aurora asked her lover. 

“Have swamp ass, like, all the time."

“No, I meant, what would you do without me, not with me—”

“Shut up or there’s swamp ass more for you!”

“Go for it, then!”

“I just might!” Penny squeaks.

“Then I'll have to wipe for you and bathe you, huh!?”

“Mm-hmm,” she moans, shivering with arousal.

“Oh, uh... Rain check,” Aurora sighed, checking her phone as it vibrated. “Nara needs to see us. She needs us to do her a favor. Look, see, she misspelled it—flavor, hah.” 

The two rushed downstairs to meet Nara, also known as Nadia Narcissa, AKA their “provider,” as Nara calls herself, her fancy term to avoid the title “sugar mama” that they all hate. 

 

This episode, the two fetishist lovers Penelope Windsor and Aurora Walkyr met each other for the first time, abandoned everything they knew for their special someone that they want to know more about. After a hard few days getting used to the adjustment, and after brainstorming ideas, they discovered a way to earn copious amounts of money, fast, through a fetishist lesbian polyamorous provider known as Nadia Narcissa, monopseudonym Nara. 

It is because the two are at Nara’s beck and call, at least at first, that they find themselves in an abandoned factory in rural Western Pennslvania, searching for lost relics as Nara put it.

What does Nara mean by flavor? Why does Nara want Penelope and Aurora, our heroes, in an abandoned factory in rural Westsylvania, and is it really a relic they are searching for? 

Spoiler alert: It isn't the friendships they make along the way. So stay tuned.


	2. Character Customization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurora and Penelope are introduced to a skills and stats system developed by Nara, that will let them take their fart powers to the next level. Aurora and Penelope start to feel like video game heroines!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imported from my DeviantArt

// “What would you do without me, Penelope?” //

// “Have swamp ass, like, all the time, Aurora…” //

These words echoed in Penelope and Aurora's minds at the moment, because these words also echoed in Penelope and Aurora's ears, from the loudspeakers. 

// “Nara needs to see us. She needs us to do her a favor. Look, see, she misspelled it—Flavors.” //

Then, the words of Nara echoed through the loudspeakers. 

// "Welcome... to the Hub." //

"The Hub?" repeated Aurora back, sarcastically. "I already have a wifey, so I don't need a hubby— 

Poppy then chimed in with her own quip: "We go to the Hub to watch Love Rachelle videos—! 

// "Silence!" //

There was silence, and somehow, the silence was so loud, it fed back through the loudspeakers, echoed thru the warehouse, between the whirs and beeps from the cubicles of computer servers, with one large monitor at the end of every vertex's concrete column. 

"Where are you, Nadia?" Aurora asked in discomfort, dreading the awkward exchange. Aurora and Penelope trusted that Nadia had the money and was eccentric enough to actually complete the transaction once the equally eccentric terms were met. These terms, however, caused discomfort, as they knew it would eventually obviously involve sexual voyeur, and Aurora and Penelope only had sexual and romantic passion for each other. They consented, surely, but begrudgingly, especially with this somehow familiar announcement: 

// "I am not Nadia... I am Nara! I am a goddess, and therefore, I am everywhere, and yet nowhere..." //

"Jesus Christ..." Aurora sighed, her face in her hands. 

// "That... name works too," // Nara replied. // "Anyway, this is the Hub. The Hub is not this warehouse in Pennsylvania... the Hub is found anywhere where people can be bribed, into access to anywhere with a computer... thus, the Hub is everywhere. You two shall travel across the world at your own desire, on your leisure, at my expense. The conditions are fair, concise, and henceforth. Complete my trials to the best of your ability, and you two shall both be rewarded with magical items... weapons, armor, spells... then stat points, abilities and more." //

Penelope passed over the magic concept in hurried excitement, rushing towards the one that outright confused her. 

// "Of course... Let me explain... Stat Points... Abilities..." // Nara replied. 

// “What would you do without me, Penelope?” //

// “Have swamp ass, like, all the time, Aurora…” //

// "Abilities..." // Nara voiced over dramatically.

// “Nara needs to see us. She needs us to do her a favor. Look, see, she misspelled it—Flavors.” //

// "Stat Points... Abilities... Flavors..." //

At that, touch screen monitors flickered on in cyan light, with a blank pad on the lower half of the screen, in block italics, the OS: F.L.A.V.O.R.S.

 

F.L.A.V.O.R.S. 

Frequency: [How frequently does the player need to fart? How long are these farts? How much food is needed to refill Fuel, and similarly, how much Fuel does the player have?"]

Longevity: [How long does the gas take to air out, based on the Density of the gas? Density, with a direct stat correlation to Longevity, determines other factors, such as others’ ease of breathing, as well as the smokiness of the fart, to be used as a shroud, for example.]

Authority: [How well can the player control her farts?]

 

Vigor: [How forceful is the fart? Can it blow nothing back, a skirt, the curtains, or even a human being?]

 

Odor: [How Potent is the odor to withstand breeze, wide spaces, air conditioning, et cetera? Beyond Potency, how Odorous is the smell, either rancid or, conversely, aromatic and pheromonal?] 

Raunch: [How wet are the farts? This not only determines how disgusting of a sound, used for intimidation or humorous persuasion, depending, but also determines the freedom of choice between Farts and Sharts. Similarly, how large are these sharts, messes, and dumps? How much junk can fit in the trunk before a discomfort Debuff or Overencumberance?]

Size: [How much of the room does the gas fill with the same Potency? Similarly how loud can the farts be, controlled by the Authority stat?]

 

All of this was read out by a female computerized voice, with Nara over it, to create an atmosphere that Penelope found quite uncanny, but that Aurora found quite dramatic. 

"Aurora... why is one stat called ranch?"

"No, Penelope... raunch. Like how raunchy it is."

"Ohhh... heehee..."

The UI continued to scroll, with Penelope at a separate monitor than Aurora, but beside each other.

 

// The F.L.A.V.O.R.S meter Sin-Urgeizes when two stats combine to determine one action. For example:

Authority and Raunch combine to determine how well the player can channel wet farts for specific actions, such as intimidation, fear, and disgust,   
rather than merely cause an accident. //

 

"Hmm... fun~ -" 

"Sin-Urgey is clever... I'll admit!" Aurora yelled to Nara.

// "I can hear you well with your inside voice, Aurora..." // Nara replied with a maniacal giggle. 

 

// Penelope Windsor... // said the computer. // Please place your hand within the outline on your touch screen. //

After some secret deliberation between Aurora and Penelope, as well as coercion from Nara, Penelope reluctantly placed her hand on the screen.

// Scanning... Scanning... Scanning...

// Scan complete. 

// Please place your bare buttocks within the outline on your touch screen. //

 

"What!?" Penelope cried, indignant but mostly nervous. 

Aurora stammered, "Hey, Nara, uh, I think she'd rather enter in her stats manually— 

// "You must do as the UI says... there is no way to skip it." // Nara told them, in a mixture of sympathy, sternness, and a little bit of mischief. 

Penelope blushed profusely as she unzipped her tight denim jeans, shimmied each way, each with a jiggle of her buttocks that increased in size as the pants were tucked more and more underneath her buttocks, finally wrapped around her mid thighs. Then she, with an embarrassed sideways gaze at Aurora, unfurled her white polka dot panties, with a visible, Nickelodeon cartoonish brown splatter along the middle. Aurora squeezed the underside of Penelope's buttocks as reassurance, and the latter mustered up courage, biting her lips with reluctant but existent arousal, and smeared her buttocks defiantly up the screen. 

 

// Scanning... Scanning... Scanning...

// Scan complete.

// Please flatulate onto the touch screen. //

 

"You have got to be fucking kidding!" Aurora yelled with uncharacteristic wrath. These exchanges were for the bedroom, and especially the bathroom, and oftentimes both at the same time, not for Nara in this warehouse. Granted, these decisions were no doubt her own, of her own freewill, as an open door out of the warehouse beckoned them should consent waver. This desperation was their own, and this solution to it was their own. Consent remained, but with it, an undercurrent of angst, that only doubled Nara's voyeurism and enjoyment. "Yeah, I'll show you, you fuckin— 

BBLLLOORRPPTT—

And then, with an extra push, her face in ultimate strain before she relaxed, loll'd her tongue out, and waggled the outcome of this shart— 

—BBRRCHSSTCK! 

"Aaaah~!" 

...sssshhheeen - plop!

—when the turd then slides down the matted screen until it hits the floor, with a plop. 

// Sniffing... Sniffing... Sniffing...

// Analysis complete.

// Please stay off of the touch screen while this loads. //

 

Penelope Windsor

Frequency: 3

Longevity: 3

Authority: 1

Vigor: 3

Odor: 8

Raunch: 10

Size: 2

Total: +25

 

"Yeah, that looks about right," Aurora muttered. 

"Hey!" Penelope cried indignantly, staring at the stats, especially the embarrassingly high Raunch stat, and embarrassingly low Authority stat. After a long pause: "Hey, you know what, I like this," she decided smugly, proud of her Odor stat most of all. She sniffed and giggled, then kicked the turd towards the computer, stood back, and crossed her arms smugly as the UI scrolled down once again. 

 

POWER 1 | PHEROMONES… OR, PHENOMENAL MESS

[Nara] // Penelope’s gas has a scent to it that can convince, cause fear, attract or repel people to or from certain locations, incite certain emotions or actions, et cetera, because of the concoction of specific pleasant and rancid scents, the former which she derives from her natural fruity diet, and the latter is just the nature of her farts. The sound of her farts also helps to intimidate, gross out, cause stun, and other results of gross, wet sounds from such a seemingly innocent girl. 

// That said, the concoction in her tummy that allows her to utilize this power of hers sometimes functions more as a cacophony, and the mixture of acids, fruity fibers, and sugar can upset her tummy extremely, which can cause quite the shart, especially when she really pushes herself to channel the ley lines of energy coursing through her intestines, and the alchemy brewing in her tummy. However, sometimes carrying the stench with her, her own polite way of excusing the fact that she oftentimes refuses to wipe or carries the mess in her panties to enlarge her ass, as well as often doesn't clean up for a while out of sheer laziness, can carry with it certain benefits, as a permanent, foul incense. //

 

"Oh, wow, this is really accurate," Aurora admitted, her eyes wide with a sly, devilish smile towards Penny, who blushed. Aurora hadn't even seen her desk chair back at home in Maine, and saw Penelope's true, brown colors. 

Next, it was Aurora's turn. Her process was simpler, because she was excited to see her results after having seen Penelope's. 

 

Aurora Walker

Frequency: 8

Longevity: 1 

Authority: 8

Vigor: 8 

Odor: 1 

Raunch: 3

Size: 3

Total: +25

 

Powers: 

FREQUENCIES… FREQUENTLY

// As Aurora’s farts are mostly long, rumbly, dry, and meaty, coupled with her musical ear, her initial power is that she is able to fart at certain frequencies.

// This power is quite malleable with effort. For example, she can fart at the Brown Note, which can cause others to shit themselves, oftentimes including herself, or she can fart at the frequency required to break glass. She can cause the earth to quake slightly with a low note, can mimic certain sounds to a garbled extent such as animal sounds, horns, and alarms, and can even fart white noise to mimic a radio or TV. How useful all of these things are is really up to her insanely intelligent mind, as well as her intensely intelligible ass.

 

"Woah... I can do all that? I should—

"Maybe... try those out later," Penny giggled nervously. 

// "Oh, yes," // Nara sounded off. // "Now, I have just the test for you two. //


	3. Character Select

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope and Aurora look for some adventuring gear and magical artifacts in California, to help them on their quests. Here, they experiment with their kinky new fart abilities, and chaos ensues.

Penelope Windsor and Aurora Walkyr find themselves in Huntington Beach, California. Nadia Narcissa allowed them access into her one of unknown quantity of homes as they had to scour the country for trials to prove their worth, so they figured they might as well soak up a tan to get Nara in a better mood. 

The house could not be any closer to the beach without being built in sand. The house is in a residential neighborhood, but in a cul de sac that points towards the shore. The rear of their house is on the bike trail which separates the parking strips from the sand, and is partitioned by an ornate metal fence with a red brick foundation and a hedge planter. The house is a modern, cubic home, almost entirely glass with remote-controlled curtains that slide from the top to divide the house in extravagant, gold sewn Victorian linen for each specific wall, in every single room. 

"Even the bathroom," Aurora sighed in complete disbelief, as she walked into a glass cube that jutted slightly outwards from the second floor and overlooked the beach as bikes whiz'd by underneath her. 

Penelope ran up the stairs, out of breath. "I just checked... the bathroom is reflective... one-way glass... so no one can... see inside..." 

Aurora chuckled as she thought of the sunsets, with the ships sailing to shore as a huge blinding blot of light served as a beacon—and in it, two women farting and sharting themselves and their lovers into oblivion. "We live in a lighthouse." 

"What?" Penelope gasped, tilting her head, not understanding. 

Penelope wears a scarlet velvet one piece bathing suit, just her size. Unfortunately, with her sizable bum, some of her curvy thighs leak out of the side and fold slightly at the leg holes, while her bum fills the rest to the point of wrinkling the seat and stretching to the torso, revealing half her cleavage. On her cute, petite feet, she wears small leather flip flops. 

Aurora wears a midriffed jet black tube top with the album art of 2112 by Rush on it, torn at the bottom, as well as belted cargo shorts. Her usual strategy of containing her massive ass by wearing baggy cargo shorts one size too small works as intended, but her definition of skimpier beach wear simply entails displaying her plumber's crack, which she does so proudly. She wears maroon fishnet stockings an inch below the end of her shorts, and then brown leather Converse All-Stars with zippers down each side. 

Aurora pointed at the curtains. "Honestly, it should be our choice if we want others to see us on the toilet." 

Penelope nodded slowly and blankly, before both burst out laughing, realizing they were complaining over such a wonderful house. 

The two held hands, walked slowly down the stairs together, examining how the modern housing plan meets marvelously with the rococo furniture. 

The two plop onto the couch. Aurora immediately stands up again, and plops instead on Penelope's lap, who graciously unbuckles her belt and fondles her bum and muffin top as it leaks out from her below hips.

Slyly, smugly, Aurora hits the remote to close the living room curtains, and then they celebrate their good fortune, in Nara's good favor. 

Besides, Aurora and Penelope needed to train. 

Before the couple could fight goblins, they had to train their Flexibility, Agility, Hip Strength, and General Stamina, as required physically to fight in the Onara style.

Then, the two had to search for one (1) magical artifact, one (1) spell tome, and one (1) set of armor, (x2) one each (6 total) in all. Spots to find these all across the United States were marked on the map. Eventually, they would have access to the global one. For now, with the map spread across the table, and their lover's saliva dripping down their lips and the sides of their mouths, they brainstormed the options available in their first requested locale, California. 

As the beach vistas were either far too rocky and desolate, or far too populated and risky, they settled upon the locale near Palm Springs, in the heart of the Southern California desert, a mere 2 hour drive away, without traffic, of course, so therefore about 4 hours. 

Luckily, Nara also recommended, or required as they were not sure which, that the two train their resistance to their companion's gas, and on control of their own gas, as well, while they upped their stats and purchased their gear before the trial.

In other words, they were allowed to participate in their fart fetish, both giving and receiving. 

"I am gonna fart all over you," Penelope moaned, her hand placed sensually on Aurora's chest as they sprawled across the coffee table, the map crinkling underneath them, the former's cute, thick, pale thighs sprawled out and bent at the knees, as the latter sat atop her with a devilish look and an arched back, her ass a sphere atop her lover's groin. Penelope's definition of domination involved a lot of simple statements, like that of a novice porno. "I'm gonna fart all over you," Penelope trilled, after gulping for breath. 

"I'm mmn harr loh vurm yoom," Aurora repeated back, during a sudden make-out session, prompted by Penelope's adorableness, muffled through her lips, and intermittent between moaning. 'I am going to fart all over you,' she meant. "I'm, mmngh... harn law vur moon," Aurora repeated back again, muffled between Penelope's ass cheeks. 

 

TRAINING MODE

 

Ppprrpllt! 

"Ahh... hmm... did you feel the wetness, hunh?" Poppy moaned, swaying her hips and chuckling as Aura bit around the velvet and rubber lining by her thighs, and gnawed and fondled her lover's cheek. 

"It... nngh... crashed into... hmm..." Aura mumbled, playing with the wedgie of her lover's bum.

"Oh... hmm..." Poppy hummed, then giggled. "I can feel the crustiness starting to form... I don't want that, so... you better wipe me...!" 

"Y-yes... yes... mm-hmm... yes, ma'am..."

Penelope chuckled. She loved being the power bottom. 

 

In the bathroom, Poppy guffawed sweetly yet deviously as Aura rubbed between her cheeks with a wet wipe, down to up, now even wetter.

Then, she turned around, bit her lip, winked, and blushed as she strained— 

Ggrroorrbbbrt!!

—to essentially replace it. "Hmph! You know what to do..." Poppy retorted smugly.

At that, Aura breathed so deeply she snorted on each inhale, completely and utterly aroused to the point that she didn't even notice she was doing it. 

Poppy laughed at this, of course, and sighed in bliss. 

 

Aurora RESISTANCE UP

 

Clean now, with Aura visibly damp at the groin, both decided to dry off outside in the Sun, in their own backyard, with beach lounge chairs, a barbecue set, and a succulent garden. 

"This is the life," Aurora whispered contentedly to herself. Penelope beamed at that. They both had their fun, both coming even before Aurora had a chance to return the favor with her farts. Aurora assured Penelope the stormiest, dampest, wettest rain check of all. 

With both of them outside, now they had an even better chance to test their abilities. Penelope's special farts, with her Pheromone ability, were quiet, so she subtly spread her cheeks underneath a beach towel on the lounge chair, and let one rip...

Fffsss-sss-sss...

... or hiss, more like. The silent but deadly butt sounded barely like a demon summoning a miasma and laughing like a snake. 

Slowly, cheekily, staring deep into Aurora, both smiling with bitten lips, Penelope raised up the blanket, and the smell, with visible pink emanation lines, spread quickly by the ocean breeze. She fanned the blanket out and propelled the gas towards the fence and out onto the beach. The gas smelled strongly and yet sweetly, like blue raspberry candy, but with an undercurrent methane and something else obscure.

Through the ornate metal fence, the two witnessed something extraordinary within seconds. 

"C'mon... Fido, c'mon. Now." 

Past the fence, a lean ponytailed woman in joggers with her bulldog stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, in front of the backyard, where Penelope and Aurora watched blankly. 

The woman pulled hopelessly, and actually quite powerfully, at the bulldog's leash, that of Fido, apparently, but the dog would not move. In fact, Fido sat, began panting, and wagged his tail happily and forcefully as a subtle, glittery trace of pink waft caught the breeze into his snout. Fido turned his snout to Penelope and barked affectionately at her.

Penelope exhaled in wonder. Aurora nodded her head and crossed her arms. 

"Come on... let's go!" the ponytailed woman yelled, looking at Penelope in confusion and disdain. 

Aurora stayed outside as Penelope slid open the door, entered the house, and slid the glass in front of her. 

Then, and only then, the dog got up and continued to obediently walk with his owner, as the ponytailed girl rushed away from the house in horror and frustration. 

Penelope slid the door back open and gasped, running towards Aurora, her arms splayed in an awaiting hug. 

Aurora caught her and pulled her up, so Penelope's legs wrapped around her hips. 

"Can we try that on a person now?" Penelope asked. 

Aurora nodded and kissed her. 

 

Aurora and Penelope rented scooters to build up their thigh strength on the way to the boardwalk. 

 

AGILITY UP

AGILITY UP

 

Eventually, their thighs burning, they found a newly opened buy and sell artisan shop, just as the road was barricaded for construction. 

As the two walked in, gleaming with sweat and sore but refreshed, the wooden beads past the glass door chimed their entrance. An old man with a round white beard, a jet black mullet, a buttoned up pink flannel, and a friendly face sounded off. "Welcome!" Behind him, a boy who appeared to be his son with a Harley Davidson tee, a stubbly face, and a square military cut simply blinked at them, then continued stocking the shelves, each handful of wares completely unique. 

"We sell odds and ends, that sort of thing," the old man told them simply as he leaned in to rest his arms on the front desk. "Byron can assist you... right, Byron?" he asked, turning around to pat his son on the back, who shuddered and scowled on the step ladder. 

"Yes, father," he replied scoldingly, without looking at his father. "Of course." What became a passing glance to Aurora and Penelope became an examination of their bodies, focusing at the hips. Aurora and Penelope held each other's hand, and Byron scoffed. 

"Excuse me, ladies, I'll be in the back. Holler if you need me, Byron, but not too loud." 

"You wouldn't hear me otherwise," Byron muttered. 

Evidently, his father did not hear him. 

Aurora and Penelope smirked slyly at each other, reading the other's mind. 

"How can I help you?" Byron begrudgingly recited. 

"Hmm... can we look?" Penelope asked cutely, mustering her best valley girl accent and leaning her substantial cleavage onto the counter. Her round boobs became bell shaped as they rested on the counter.

"I guess," Byron sputtered, and turned around stiffly to occupy himself with something on the floor besides his boner. 

Penelope and Aurora looked around at the shelves, and spotted numerous daggers, medieval weapons, armor replicas, fantasy statuettes, and beyond that, in the unmarked corner of the store before the walls were bare, undeveloped as of yet, a haphazard assortment of historic garments and accessories. 

Instinctually, Penelope spotted an amulet with a Celtic knot band made of mossy twine. The actual pendant was a small brass bell with the gong part taken out of it and filled closed with beige crystal. 

Penelope struggled to describe it— "The, um, twirly necklace with the green bits, and the chime thing, like the cows wear?" —but Byron rolled his eyes and dragged it irresponsibly from the shelf to the front desk. 

Aurora bared her teeth at the way he treated the equipment, but knew he would get his comeuppance. 

Instinctually, Aurora spotted a tattered scarf, gold sewn around the holes, and silver sewn along the lining. The fabric itself was jet black with gradient violet streaks, and sewn in were tiny, raw rubies and sapphires that made the scarf resemble a nebula. 

Byron plopped it onto the desk and yawned as the crystals scraped against the wood. 

Aurora looked at Penelope, and Penelope nodded. 

"Can we also buy some armor?" 

"Dressing rooms are back there."

 

Penelope settled on a thin set of hardened leather. In the dressing room, she managed to fit on some clothes her size over the medium armor, because she was unwilling to sacrifice her aesthetic. After all, her power is that of manipulation, so she has to look pretty beyond a dingy set of brown hardened leather armor. 

Aurora settled on beige colored synthetic wool light armor, used for hunting. Even as she rubbed her fingernails along the fabric, or jogged in place, the clothes barely made a sound, as intended, though the seat of the pants were too tight to fit around her bum at all. She figured she could cut it and tighten the seams, so it would tighten around her thighs when she wears it, and below it, could simply wear underwear beneath a rising skirt. 

"Do you remember Skyrim, Penny?" 

"Yeah, I do... why?" she asked, tilting her head at Aurora as she shimmied out her armor. 

"I just thought of something. You are sort of like the fighter class, and I am like the thief." 

"How?" Penny asked, smiling. 

"Because, like... you persuade people, or scare people away, or even have animals come to your aid... based on your ability, anyway... like an honorable knight, but also, people fear you... and you have heavier armor too, and the... uh... 

"Don't you dare say anything about my curves," Penny whined. 

"Oh, shut up, you know you're sexy. I meant your armor." 

"I don't feel sexy in these... fuckin' boots!" she yelled, as she kicked them off, and hit the wall with a slam. "Oh..." she gasped, palming her facial cheeks, embarrassed. "I mean... darn boots." 

Aurora chuckled. "Anyway, I am the thief— 

"Because you're edgy?" Penelope butt in, already feeling better as she tied on her swimsuit. 

"That," Aurora admitted proudly, "and my ability is all about subterfuge, and tricking people, and forcing people to do things they don't want to do." 

"Oooh... do you think we'll meet a mage?" Penelope asked cutely.

 

"We'll take these," Aurora announced to Byron, at the desk. 

"These, too," Penelope said, as they both plopped their armor on the desk. 

"Can you two actually afford this?" 

"How about tell us the price?" Aurora told him, glaring at him. 

"Oh... uh... actually, let me go check." 

Aurora subtly held the bottom of the counter, and closed her eyes in relief as she nonchalantly let loose. 

Vvvrtck!

"Did... did one of you..." Byron stuttered. He inhaled, coughed, and spluttered out, "oh, you are disgusting," accusing between the two of them. 

Penelope stood stiff and began to blush, clutching at her facial cheeks and pushing them together to make a silly fish face. 

Aurora sniffed, felt her heart beat faster at the insult, and came to her rescue. 

VRRRRT! VRRRRT!

"No, that... sounds to me like construction," Aurora chimed in smugly, gesturing towards the glass door. Indeed, cones were set out, and construction continued down the street with the sound of drills and electric screwdrivers. 

Penelope looked at her, amazed. Aurora actually mimicked the sound of construction with her ass. 

"Oh... all right," Byron muttered suspiciously. Still, his shoulders relaxed. 

"Yeah, the chemicals they use to wash the roads smell awful," Aurora continued. 

"Uh huh," Byron yawned idly. 

"Now let's talk about how you just called my girlfriend disgusting." 

"Hmph. Your girlfriend, huh?" 

"Ava and Eve," Aurora whispered devilishly, "not Adam and Steve."

"You know what, I don't think I can sell to you." 

CRSH-ttTT!

Byron immediately turned around. Then, there was silence. "Was that a crash? Oh, fuck!" he cried out, and ran to go check on his father. 

"Now," Aurora whisper-yelled before she sniffed proudly, and they both grabbed the armor and artifacts in a hurry, and ran out the door, Penelope farting with each step all the way to the clear coast in a panic. 

Chhschhck! Bbrraraappt! Broolllppptt! Ffllfaaffaffftt! 

"Aaah!!" she screamed in a thrill as they ran as far as their cardiovascular systems let them. 

 

ARMOR GET

ARMOR GET

 

ARTIFACT GET

ARTIFACT GET

 

HIP STRENGTH UP

HIP STRENGTH UP

 

Penelope could not stop laughing.

"Ohh, that was so cool!" she cheered. 

"I can't believe I actually managed to do that... twice," Aurora mumbled, contemplative. 

"Oh, come on... we got our armor and our magical artifact!" 

"Well, we got our armor. We don't actually know if these are magical."

At that moment, they passed by a hut for a palm reader, and below it, the sign read that the palm reader also does tarot card flips, crystal ball readings, ouija board readings, seances, and finally, magical appraisals. 

"Oh, this day is so awesome!" Penelope cried out. 

Aurora took out her phone, tapped twice, and held it to her ear. 

"Hey, Nadia. Yeah, Nara, I meant, sorry. Can you do something for me? Go ahead and find out who opened the new artisan store across from the Carl's Jr. along Huntington Beach Boardwalk and wire him $2000 anonymously. He looks mid-50s, friendly face, black eyes, small eyeglasses, long black straight hair, round white beard, stocky build, fan of flannels. Fine, her and I can film another video for you. Deal. Thanks."

Aurora eased her conscious, smiled, and walked into the hut, holding Penny's hand tight. 

 

"Hi, we're here to get these two appraised, and... do you perhaps have a tote bag?" Aurora asked, gesturing with the bundles of clothing in her hand. 

"Oh, of course, sweet heart," the old woman said. She had a gaunt, wrinkly face with big grey eyes magnified in her reading glasses, and thin, violet lips, though her body was spry, and gracefully stood up from her cross legged, meditative position and practically skipped across the small, violet hut to unfurl a tote bag, then handed it to them with a still, outstretched arm. 

"Thank you so much," Aurora told her, smiling and bowing. "We're here to get these two pieces appraised." 

The old woman took the scarf and the amulet, and examined them with darting eyes before she sat back down, then gestured graciously for them two to sit across her. 

The incense seemed to blot out the trickling skid mark forming from Penelope's accidental, wet farts as they ran away. When she sniffed to smell only cinnamon and apple, she smiled, though could not find any incense as she looked around the dimly lit hut, and recalled her cinnamon apple sauce from this morning for breakfast. Then, she realized. She smiled gleefully to herself and looked happily at Aurora. 

"Which accessory is for which?" the old woman asked, the amulet in one hand and the scarf in the other. 

"The amulet is for me, ma'am," Penelope trilled politely. 

"Oh, of course, dear, this will look adorable on you," she told her with a wrinkly smile. She pressed the amulet to Penelope's chest, just below the collar, and closed her eyes and hummed. 

Within thirty seconds, the old woman stiffened, and opened her eyes as her head tilted back suddenly. When she spoke with her usual calm, elder voice, however, the two lovers smiled. "This amulet," went the old woman, "seems to be a magical facet. When this amulet touches your skin, your magical ability will always be successful," she concluded simply, and handed back the amulet. Penelope just looked back at her confused, but enthralled. 

Then, Aurora handed her the scarf. The old woman held it in her hands, twisting it as if to wring out water, folding it between her fingers.

"This scarf," the dear old woman began, "seems to hold and retain magical energy. When magical energy enters it, it can hold a large quantity within it, to be utilized later. It can be wrung out in large quantities, or it slowly emanates that magical energy that can be felt when it is worn," she concluded simply, and handed back the scarf.

"What does any of that mean?" Penelope whispered in Aurora's ear, while the old woman smiled blankly. Aurora shrugged. 

 

Back at the house, Aurora and Penelope plopped down their hauls on the couch, and panted. 

"Fuck... we should have brought a backpack..." 

"Or called an Uber..." 

"But... we needed to level our— 

STAMINA UP

STAMINA UP

 

"Follow along as we do this pose together...!" 

"Wii Fit, huh?" Aurora asked.

Penelope hummed and nodded as she bent forward into the Downward Facing Dog pose, her bum clad in yoga pants, and perfect. "No shame in unwinding after a long day..." 

"Fair enough then, continue," Aurora responded, her face flushed as she sat on the couch and leaned in to watch only after she placed a loving hand on Penelope's perfect pear-shaped ass. 

BBRAPTT!

"Ahh... I think it's working!" 

"Fuck... please continue," Aurora moaned, sliding her hand into her pencil skirt and twiddling a bit. 

"I will if you go after me," Penelope sang. 

"Deal..." 

FLEXIBILITY UP

FLEXIBILITY UP

 

"How about we figure out what these artifacts do, and call it a day?" Aurora asked gently. 

"We still need a spell tome each..." Penelope whispered in realization. 

"...only before we start questing," Aura reassured her. "We've accomplished a lot today." 

Huntington Beach was only a yellowish blackness, compared to the blackness of the listless ocean. Bonfires appeared as ambers aglow in the fossilized sand, in an endless dotted ray from Mexico to Oregon. Sometimes, a misplaced note from a stereo there would float on the breeze and echo off of their fence like a submerged tuning fork. Mostly, crickets chirped instead of birds, and the waves ebbed and flow'd like a temporary crescendo of white noise.

On the unconscious, diagonal horizon, the Sun turned the ocean beneath it ablaze until the darkness extinguished it, leaving hollow pinpricks of stars propping up retardant foil skies, and beneath it, only streaks of drool, violet and orange, in stripes above the now invisible horizon. 

"I love sunsets," Penny yawned, nuzzling herself closer to Aura, curled up together on their smooshed lounge chairs.

 

Inside, the curtains shuttered the windows. 

"Shall we try these artifacts out?" Penny yawned, smiling. 

Aurora nodded. "I think I know what mine does," she muttered to herself, "but you should try yours first." 

Penelope nodded. In her plaid pajama bottoms and her Johnny Cash nightshirt, she tied her hair up into a bun so she could clasp on her amulet. 

"All right, well... I guess I just..." 

She propped herself onto the couch, plopped her bum into the crease between the cushions, sat criss cross apple sauce, and rested her hands on her thighs. In this meditative stance, Penelope closed her eyes, and relaxed her face. 

Pppff-ffssss...

Like Mentos plopped into a Coca-Cola bottle, her bum popped with silentish bubbles, and then fizzed into silence. 

Penelope stiffened, looked down at herself, looked at Aurora with a smirk, and sniffed at the visible pink swirled tendrils, that smelled and tasted sweet. Aurora, too, sniffed. The smell in the air was that of lavender, a sleepy scent, that actually attempted to shutter Aurora's eyes, which would have widened in surprise otherwise at the uncharacteristic quiet, small fart that produced quite a potent, yet pleasant scent. Aurora could not believe that Penelope's mud bum amounted to that pleasant of a smell. Just to make sure, Aurora walked over, stuck her face in between Penelope's crossed, opened legs, and sniffed, and lo and behold, it wafted strongly from Penelope's bum. Penelope placed a delicate hand on Aurora's head, and with the other pushed her up gently by the chin. Silently, she gestured for Aurora stand back and look at her. Aurora obeyed. 

Penelope could not help but stick out her tongue and wink as she cheekily lifted up the amulet by the her thumb hooked through the chain, and let loose a short ripper, but one of the loudest ever from her. 

Pppllp-BROOSHT! 

The transformation from fart to shart was immediate and jarring. Aurora blinked and wiped her eyes, and still saw it. 

Penelope was two inches higher, not floating in meditation, but rather balancing on a mound of her own poo, filling her pajama pants. Penelope giggled uncontrollably, and clapped as she ran to empty the mess into the toilet. It took three separate fillings and flushes. Aurora came immediately, and fell asleep on the couch until Penelope woke her up to make out in celebration. 

Afterwards, she managed to explain that while the amulet itself touched her skin, her farts were her pheromonal type, airy and odorous, like her ability promised. When she took the amulet off of her skin, however, her farts were wild, and in this case, quite wet. She imagined, furthermore, that the more she farted airily with the amulet on her skin, the more of a mess the next fart without the amulet would cause, since she saved them up, in a sense, like she did so today after such large meals. 

 

Aurora barely managed to stay awake, and barely managed to edge, as the smell of lavender dissipated from the room. 

Next, Aurora, wearing only a thong and a lingerie bra, tied her scarf around her thin waist so the brunt of the material dangled in front of her ass. Then, she let rip. 

BbbbrrrbbbtrrttvvvvvzzzzzzZZzzrrrpppttt! 

Aurora sniffed, and Penelope sniffed. 

"Nothing."

"Woah, nothing," Penelope told her as she even sniffed centimeters away from Aurora's crack. 

Then, Aurora took off her scarf and held it in front of Penelope's face. 

"Fuck," Penelope recoiled, flaring her nostrils in disgust. "I mean... pee-yoo!"

"I am going to go out on a limb here, and say that this scarf holds in all of the scent of my farts, until I wring it out or have someone else smell it. Even then, they'd have to absorb it all." 

"Woah... awesome...!" 

"Wanna have some fun with it?" she asked as she tightened the scarf like a whip and shot her a threatening smile. Penelope swooned and fell onto the couch, a hand on her forehead, and awaited her. 

 

Penelope RESISTANCE UP


	4. Character Unlocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenger Approaching! Rozamont Fenn, a fit and farty yoga instructor, airs out her dirty laundry, while Nara watches in secret, and makes plans to quell the uncontrollable Aurora and Penelope with the help of this new woman.

Rozamont Fenn is a yoga instructor, 25 years old and very short, from Denver, Colorado, at the time of Penelope and Aurora's aforementioned adventures in the beaches of Southern California. Rozamont's skin tone is tan olive, with a bridge of freckles across her small straight nose. Rozamont has a heart shaped face because of her pointed chin and her prominent widow's peak on her forehead. Her mouth is small and her natural red lips are heart shaped as well. Her eyes are round and large with small silver irises. Her hair is dirty blonde and straight, down past in front of her shoulders, in braided pigtails, with chocolate brown roots. Her skin is clear aside from the freckles, a cute mole at the top of her left thigh under her bum, and a beauty mark at the corner between her mouth and her nose. 

Rozamont has an athletic build. Her arms and legs are sinewy and toned, with quite a bit of definition, just outlines until she flexes, while her hands and feet are large and calloused. She has a large head and a petite body. Her hips are wide and rounded, with lean, toned but shapely thighs and a thin, tight waist and abdomen. Her buttocks are round and tight to form an apple shape above her thigh gap, lean but perky.

In the firefly pose, Rozamont christens the pose. 

Pbbbllt!

Rozamont gasps, and falls on her bottom. Her bum raspberries for about two seconds. 

"What did you say?" her client asks. 

"Oh, n-nothing..." she sputters, blushing. "Hold this for twenty more seconds, and then we... you, I mean, can exit the pose. I'll be right back."

Rozamont doesn't care at this point. This is a long-time client, and Rozamont knew that one bad session would not turn the client elsewhere. So she stood up and walked out of frame for a second, and soaked in the Denver, Colorado view from her apartment. It was a sunny winter morning, as is normal at the wee end of winter and the wee start to the year. The snow actually brightened the light beyond that of a sweltering summer day, and everyone outside lethargically walked their eager dogs, and others made graffiti with their fingers on snowy cars, jokes and emojis and greetings. The mood was bright because so was the day. She knew the windows were reflective, so she pulled down her yoga pants a bit, scratched her bum where it pinched the floor from before, and noticed her fingers drifting towards the crack, where alas, there was a damp cloud of gas that frothed between her skin and her waistband, from the fart. 

That is to say, as she thought to herself sarcastically, she noticed her fingers move, as if they had a mind of their own. Instead, she felt that she has been influenced by a certain special person in her life, and that said person had cast a spell on her that transformed her attitude into a mischievous one, transformed her silent, airy gas that she was ashamed of at the gymnasium but kept equally silent about, into bustling, wet farts that she was even more ashamed about but somehow, more up front about, and more devious about, with her shame transformed into sexual liberation. This was only a taste, rather, a smell, of her capabilities—she moved her finger (or her finger was moved) up to her nostril and she took a deep whiff and recoiled in bashful bliss.

 

Then, she sighed and rolled her eyes, but her fingers did not leave underneath her nostrils. Did Luna really cast a spell on her, as if it was not Rozamont's responsibility, or did Rozamont substitute salads and fruits to a recent diet of beans, lentils, ginger ale instead of water, dairy products in spite of her lactose intolerance, spicy foods so she could "build up her tolerance" because of the recent nutritional benefit discovered in peppers, all to make her gassier, right? Luna did not unleash a miasma, Rozamont is not cursed by a witch with a bubbling potion at her mouth and at her bottom, who cast a spell through a fetish. No, Rozamont unleashed a miasma herself, and loved it. 

Rozamont barely shook Luna out of her mind, not before shaking her bum against the window, sliding up her yoga pants to her own sexy reflection, wedgying and giggling to herself as she felt her yoga pants soak some vague wetness from the cloud, then opened up her waistband to watch the cloud empty out in billows that she sniffed in glee, all before she went to check up on the client.

"OK, now, slowly move your legs towards your back," Rozamont told her client, arching her back and placing her hands on her hips, her face completely flushed. 

 

Take yesterday at the park, for example. 

Rozamont walked Luna's cat, Mun-mun, because Luna had an "interview" she said. Yesterday was a snowy overcast day, so she wore a plaid fleece jacket over a plain t-shirt, belted high-waisted jeans, and wedges. Rozamont found herself at the nearby park, where Mun-mun wanted to pee, so as she sighed steam and held the leash as her mind drifted from that day's sessions, clients, and money to what she would spend the money on, to money on gas—not for her car, but for her own aforementioned fuel—

 

"Hey, Roze!" ... Tom called after her, and ran towards her. 

"Oh," Rozamont gasped, letting go of Mun-mun's leash. Mun-mun is fine, just eating grass, too much of a fattie to run anywhere. "Hi, Tom," she muttered, extending a hand out to handshake him awkwardly. 

"Oh, I, uh," Tom stammered. He has an ovular, slender face, faded black hair in a curly but evenly cut mop on his head, and round charcoal black eyes, and the tall lean figure of a runner. His voice is gravelly but animated. "How have you been?" he asked, scratching behind his neck with his spare hand. At his feet is Bud, a pepper-gray Schnauzer that joins Mun-mun in eating grass gently and nonchalantly. Mun-mun, about his size, gazes at him and approves of him by continuing to not care. Rozamont swears, Mun-mun is capable of shrugging, when she stretches her back down and shoulders up, and blinks at them in that naturally smooshed expression. 

"I'm fine," Roze responds obliquely, assertively. Then adds, "I've been fine," gently to herself, relaxing her shoulders, with a cold stare at him. "Doesn't Mun-mun shrug?" she asks, lightening up. 

"What? ... Why haven't you called back?" Tom asked, cutting to the chase. 

Rozamont's eyes widened at the direct confrontation. Then she took some deep breaths, looked down, kicked the grass, put her hands on her hips, inhaled, looked up, and— 

 

"My phone has'nt been working!" she shrieked, her face completely expressionless. She blinked at him. 

He blinked back. "I, uh... I see. Why haven't you responded to my messages on Insta, then?" 

'Shit' she thought, then cringed at how he so cockily called it Insta, 'and out in the open, shamelessly! He's good.' 

 

"Besides," he went on, "you have an iPhone and a Macbook. You have Messages on your laptop, and I know you get them. We texted while you're at the office."

"Yeah, well... I'm into women." 

"You're gay?" 

"Yeah—

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that," Tom added. 

"No, of course not, I know. Thanks," she added awkwardly. 

"I could tell you were into me," Tom continued, "into the sex." 

"I'm bi." 

"You're leaving?" 

"No, Tom, I'm bisexual," she clarified, agitated. 

"Oh. Then what's the problem?" 

'Shit, he's right!' she thought, about to declare defeat. "I, uh..." She put her hands on her hips again, looked at him assertively, and then thought about what to say next. 'Tom is cute... I mean, you know why you haven't messaged him, Roza. You want to leave your options open. You treated him like an object, he treated you like an object: the sex was good, the cuddles were good, but it was a transaction, right?' 

She shifted on her feet, stood up tall, migrated her hands to her waist, puffed out her chest—

BrrRRuummpphff...ttrrvvvrrrfff...prrrttrttffrrt-FFFT!

For eleven seconds, her tush billowed her coattails and she stood there, tall, hands on waist, her eyes slowly widening, slowly blushing, but her brow still furrowed and her face still blank as she sized Tom up. Tom flinched, then had time to cock his head in confusion, and even tap his foot in impatience, as Rozamont looked apologetic, pushed her stomach to end the fart quicker, as if it was out of her control, until it finished in a gust as perfect punctuation. 

Rozamond spoke up: "I have stomach issues!" she recited robotically, squeaking and quieting as she noticed the stares and silence around her. 

"OH. Well, uh, in that case. I understand. I'm sorry I pressured you to tell me." 

"I'll text you later!" she cried, not moving, not making any expression, calling his bluff. 

"Please do," he responded amiably, or at least tried to with a visible air of suspicion, then sniffed the air, frowned, and left. 

'Hah! That showed him!' she thought as Mun-mun stopped between her thighs and sniffed ambivalently. 

 

Or take last night at the gym, for example. 

Rozamont entered the gym in a heavy coat to brave the cold night, colder than usual. Inside, in the heat, she took her heavy coat off to reveal her tan bod, her purple eyeliner and purple eyeshadow and purple lipstick and purple tube top and brown short shorts, so as to hide the results of any accidental sharts, and tennis shoes. Rozamont came back from a date, in fact, and not with Tom. The coat was for the night out, and the skimpy clothes were for the night in, but she needed to get a work out in to clear her head, and couldn't return to her apartment lest she do something rash, she was so affected. Purple is Luna's favorite color, but Luna calls it violet. They had taken a walk around the outdoor mall that Sunday, where a New Year celebration was happening, though a bit late into the year. Besides, she binged on a few pretzels, so she needed to burn off the carbs, forgetting that sex burns calories too, especially sex twice as they planned, and she even orgasmed the first and only time before she left to clear her head, hence the gym. 

That night, she had stares, especially from the newbies that used their New Year's resolution to get away from their wives at night, to scope out the hot chicks. Rozamont fit. Luckily, the newbies and all their sweat masked Rozamont's scents of cum and asses underneath the light lavender perfume, sprayed especially onto her ass, in case she couldn't control herself with an unlucky patron while she was here. 

The only vacant elliptical, she took, between one regular, Bartholomew, who she smiled at and who smiled back respectfully (he and his wife were fun and accommodating at a recent block party) and a newbie that was all eyes, who she scoffed at and who smiled back doubly (he was a loser, she could tell) at her. Immediately, she put her earbuds in and started, but no music played, and the newbie called her bluff. 

"Hey, uh, I'm new here." 

"I can tell," she retorted, and pretended to turn up her music by fiddling with her phone. 

"You're not listening to music. What's your name?" 

"What's yours?" 

"Parker." 

"Hi, Parker," she replied with care. "Do you have children, Parker? I love children." 

"Yes, I have a daughter named Eliza—

"Oh, wow, that's my name! That'd be kinda weird if I took you up on your offer." 

[after a long pause] "Wha—um, why is that?" 

 

The vibe went from creepy to way-past-creepy immediately, and even Bartholomew winced. 

"I-I... uh, I'm here to get away from my wife," Parker continued awkwardly, to silence. 

Rozamont had a devious idea. Well, maybe it wasn't much of an idea, but she tried it anyway, because it certainly was devious. She let an airy fart, twelve seconds long and silent, seep out of her, and tried to hide the immense relief... 

Ssshhh-hsssssphhumm-tsssssss...

Then, when she smelt it first, and of course she did, because she dealt it— 

 

"Oh, dude, c'mon, I heard that." 

"What did you hear?"

"I heard you... uch... are you really going to make me say it?" 

"What did I do?"

At this point, others were murmuring to themselves, and wincing at the smell (they were spicy pretzels) and then, so did Parker. 

"Oh, I, uh... I guess I didn't even realize." 

Rozamont huffed, shook her head, grabbed her phone, and walked slowly towards the public unisex bathroom, because Denver is progressive like that, pretending to text someone. Parker, embarrassed and looking to make amends because of the judgemental eyes from everyone nearby upon him, stopped and entered the bathroom as well, ahead of her so as to feign that he needed to go and not that he was following her. Rozamont entered behind him and luckily no one else was in there—so many jocks tend to use their respective sexes' restrooms out of protest—so she smiled evilly and locked the door behind her, and just before Parker turned to see, she turned off the light. 

 

"Oh... oh, I d-don't like the dark," Rozamont whispered. 

"It must just be a power surge," Parker placated. 

clik-clik "Ooh, no, the door's locked!!" 

"Look, lady, we got off on the wrong foot and—

But before he could start, Rozamont "tripped" onto Parker. Her eyes were still used to the dark since she entered the gym only a minute or so ago, so she was quite accurate in her aim: ass-first, onto his chest. Parker fell back and Rozamont cushioned herself on her buttocks and on his belly flab, then scooted herself onto his neck, ass facing his head, and folded her commando short shorts down. Parker reached in front of him to get his bearings, still dazed, but grabbed her bare bum accidentally instead—all according to plan. 

 

"Uch—I tripped and you grope me while I'm down? Pervert!" 

 

"N-no, wait— 

 

"Hmph!"

BRrrrrcksh-brrtt-braabbLLPPBBLABABBABBT-BPLORTCKSHCK-cckgurrbjrrbllggrck—SPPPFFFT!

 

"Aaah!"

"Aaaahh!!" 

Twenty seconds, if she counted correctly—her new record. This time, she didn't need to check. Right at the end, at the apex of her relief and self-satisfaction to the point that her tongue lolled out her mouth and her fists clenched Parker's sizeable tummy, she actually felt her butt cough—or did it spit, on purpose—spicy flecks right onto Parker's face—she heard the drips of it immediately after. 

 

drip... drip... drip-drip...

Then, another long pause. 

"Still wanna fuck me?" 

"I, uh..." 

"Of course not."

Rozamont got up to turn on the light and wiped herself clean, first her crack, then each cheek, then the coagulation of turds at the top of her thigh caught between the shorts and her bottom. She didn't bother flushing the toilet paper down—she knew it wouldn't. She shrugged, smiled deviously, but by this point realized that Parker had already left. She bent backwards to check that there were no stains anywhere, on her anyway, and it all checked out. She clicked her tongue, snapped her fingers, and walked out with regained confidence. 

 

Rozamont found Parker back on the elliptical, staring straight ahead, red in the face, stalwart. Rozamont walked in front of the ellipticals on the way towards the entrance, and just as she passed in front of Parker's—

BR-OOMPH! 

—let loose for two forceful seconds, completely nonchalant, even though it actually blew her hair up, not stopping in her walk cycle towards the door. In fact, she didn't even need to stop mid-fart, even as it seemed that the fart crashed into her shorts—but she needed to leave right now to finish the con. 

 

Immediately, the exercisers murmured amongst themselves louder and angrier. Bartholomew took out an earbud and confronted Parker. "Hey, dude, you need to—

"B-but it wasn't me!" 

"Go take care of it by the bathrooms or outside if you need to, but not indoors with the heat on," he sighed. "People need to breathe heavy here and we're all working out but we all try to be considerate," Bartolomew continued.

Rozamont heard this in decrescendo, and winked at him, his advocate, one that she could invite to a threesome one day—a five-some, if she knew any better—as she smiled evilly on her way to grab her coat and out the door. Before that, Bart smiled back. Roze ran in the cold to her car, burst out laughing as the gym's door closed behind her, opened her car door, slammed it behind her, and before she sat, flexibly crouched over the seat and reached between her pants and her bum—

 

and luckily she was only hot-dogging. The tip of the turd licked a smidmark onto the shorts, but only visible on the inside. Just a small gift for Luna, then, or a way to keep the next creep at bay without such drastic measures next time—oh, but she so enjoyed it, this time! She trilled to herself in relief and pride, then punched the steering wheel in confrontative adrenaline and sexual arousal before she drove off, the spare key hanging from the keyring from the ignition.

 

CHARACTER UNLOCKED

ROZAMONT FENN

 

When Roze arrived back at home, she texted Luna—who, in turn, tweeted out these stories of her lover's mischief, and her own at times, to the void on Twitter. 

 

That is, she never had likes, nor retweets, nor DMs, so she thought of it as venting. But Nara watched the tweets come in, her face lit ominously by a blue screen, her toothy smile ablaze with the red notification lights, as this woman, without any shame, tweeted about her lover's experience at the gym with a creepy guy, at the park with an overbearing ex, in front of an unsuspecting client, her own experiences with ruining a textbook for classes as she sat on the couch, her ass to huge to feel it between the cushions, then yellowed, and dampened, the pages, crushed them with her size, tore some out with the force of the fart—

Before she came, Nara turned to her other monitor. Aurora and Penelope had their equipment—Nara had the store paid off, so their theft ended up as a better deal than the actual price—finished their remedial training, and were off to the desert to start their first quest. Still, Nara wasn't supportive of Aurora and Penelope's irresponsible decision, of stealing their equipment, then expecting her to pay it off because of their mischief. Granted, she could, with no problem, pay them off—and it was a drop in the bucket compared to her being able to see a new porn video from them, perhaps to use it as sabotage for later—but perhaps, they were a risk, more then a benefit, especially with this new couple, just as eager, just as naive in their love, and therefore, just as willing to hone their secret powers. This time, however, they wouldn't do it just to serve Nara's whims—they would do it to defeat Aurora and Penelope, to save Nara any more supposed trouble. 

Nara grinned to herself, and wondered—what are the odds that two couples with not only the farts, but the fetish, made themselves known to her, at about the same time? She shrugged—maybe a miasma was spreading, she joked to herself. She laughed maniacally to herself at that, and went to work, recruiting her next team, Luna and Rozamont. First, she needed to know a bit more about Luna—how did she look, where did she love, and how could she be corrupted?


End file.
